A Saturday on the Pitch on Quidditch Pitch

Lizzie Lavine

October 02, 2006 7:50 PM

A Saturday on the Pitch by Lizzie Lavine

The day was cool and clear, one that could be argued as one of the nicest in the year. After a short and protein filled breakfast in the Cascade Hall, the nice day found Lizzie Lavine on the quidditch pitch. Ebony hair tightly twisted into a bun and vibrant blue eyes searching the sea of green, Liz dropped her bag of quidditch gear in a sunny spot. Inside her bag were a few quaffles, her broom, a pair of worn-in leather riding boots, a mini broom care kit, and a bottle of cold water. The morning dew was still fresh on the ground as she stretched. Liz was dressed for a training session: form fitting practice pants, a green tank top, and a zip up fleece jacket were paired with her of worn-in cross-trainers.

The Christmas break had been relatively fun for Lizzie, as it was spent on the Southern coast of France in Marseilles with her French cousins. The only downside to the trip had been the lack of and clear ban on the playing of quidditch. Her Aunt Jacqueline made certain that she was not allowed to practice all the of the break. The whole trip was a plot of her Uncle William Lavine, Aunt Jacqueline, and her cousins Giselle and Michel in order to get the American Lavines to visit their country home on the coast. Brett and Javon accompanied her to their aunt and uncle's house, but could only say for Christmas Eve and Christmas Day. The remainder of the holiday left Lizzie alone with her cousin Giselle, who was more focused on the boys on the beaches than the game of quidditch they were playing. Unlike in the US, quidditch was the most popular sport in France, thus creating for Lizzie the worst glass house situation- she could look and watch, but could not touch. However, she found that most boys lost interest in their game when they spotted Giselle and Lizzie laying out on the sand in their bikinis. Liz also discovered that maybe Giselle wasn't completely wrong in her ideas about guys.

So a mixture of guilt and restlessness forced Lizzie out of bed and out on the pitch that morning to get in a good practice session. After stretching fully, Liz took off running- first across the whole pitch and back, and then to a set of the aptly named "suicides". The set was relatively simple- touch the ground at the starting point, then run 5 yards, touch the ground, then run back to the start. Then repeat, this time going to 5 yards and back, then 10 yards and back. The set Lizzie started continued on like that until the runner was finishing out at 50 yards. It took her a while, since she wasn't as agile as she was before the break, but the effort was worth it. Lying out on the soft grass for a short respite, Liz came upon the thought that the French purebloods needed to allow their daughters to play sports. Lizzie rolled over onto her stomach and pulled out her water bottle from her bag, and took a drink. A little splash of water on her face was enough to motivate her to continue her practice- airwork. So Lizzie pulled herself up and mounted her broom, taking off with a quaffle for some shot practice, leaving her things on the ground in her bag with Elizabeth Lavine embroidered on it, incase someone might wonder whose it was. \n\n

0 Lizzie Lavine A Saturday on the Pitch 0 Lizzie Lavine 1 5

Ash Craven

October 05, 2006 10:26 AM

Anger management by Ash Craven

Ash was not a great stickler for tradition. Table manners, holding doors open for ladies and other fine points of etiquette and chivalry had passed him by. There was, however, one point to which he firmly stuck; the fine and noble tradition of 'If you ever hurt my sister, I will beat the living crap out of you'. Ok, Sorrel was older than him, but only by a few minutes, so he still needed to look out for her. She was a tomboy, and perfectly capable of kicking her own boyfriends if need be, but he didn't like Mike, and Sorrel was being too blind to see that she might need protecting, which was all the more reason to make sure he was able to.

He'd got a few strange looks carrying a pillow through the school. Well, he was sure he had done, once he was no longer looking. He was giving off enough testosterone and anger that he doubted many people would be stupid enough to give him a funny look. He'd chosen to head to the pitch, as the paths got busy quickly on a Saturday, plus he could get some Beater practise in afterwards. When he arrived, he noticed some stuff in the middle of the grass, and dimly noted there was a figure in his peripheral vision. He decided to ignore them. If they came down and laughed at him, he could use them as a punchbag instead of the pillow, which he used his wand to lash to one of the goal hoops at fist height.

He did some warm up stretches, before taking off his jacket to reveal a sleeveless vest. His arms were pretty toned from all his years as a Beater, but Mike was older than him and taller than him, and probably fought dirty. The pillow began to receive the pounding of a life time, Ash's face contorted with a mixture of effort and rage. \n\n

13 Ash Craven Anger management 50 Ash Craven 0 5

Lizzie

October 08, 2006 1:33 PM

What's this? by Lizzie

Left, right, tuck roll, barrel roll.. These commands coursed through Lizzie's mind as she approached the goal hoops at practice speed. Eyes focused on the circular space behind the middle ring, Liz's peripheral vision caught something, rather, someone approaching the pitch. Concentrate, concentrate, she told herself, Whoever it is will just have to use the other side of the pitch to practice.

She continued on her airborne pathway, increasing speed as she launched the quaffle at the ring. Lizzie cut right as to avoid hitting the other posts, the satisfying "whoosh" of the ball passing cleanly through the ring sounding behind her. With a self-satisfied grin, she turned back around to catch the quaffle on the other side. As she did so, however, she noticed the figure from earlier was at the moment punching the hell out of a pillow attached to the goalpost. Swiftly grabbing the ball, Liz dropped altitude to a visible level only to discover the assailant was none other than Ash Craven.

"Hey!" she nearly shouted from her position a few feet away and above his head, "Ash!"

Liz tucked the quaffle into the crook of her arm and flew over to where he was standing, looking from the pillow that was noiselessly accepting its punishment to the determined teenager's face. She dismounted and tossed the quaffle on the ground next to the space her broom was hovering in. She crossed the distance between them, trying to get in his line of vision.

"Ash, hey, are you okay?" she asked, blue eyes searching.\n\n

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Ash

October 19, 2006 6:48 AM

Pillow talk by Ash

Ash, absorbed in the task of the pillow fight, hadn't noticed the flier come closer. As his name was called, he turned sharply to the source of the noise, fists still clenched, ready. Lizzie. It was a good job she hadn't come up behind him, or within arm distance without getting his attention. If there was one person in Sonora he didn't want to give a black eye, it was Lizzie.

He gave the pillow a few more solid punches as she manoeuvred down beside him, and then focused on trying not to look like he was about to bite someone's head off. Apparently it worked, to some extent, because she didn't exactly seem scared. Apparently it was also obvious he wasn't just training though.

He half shrugged, and - with all the eloquance of the average teenage boy - gave a monosyllabic grunt that wasn't clearly either a yes or a no. He didn't want to say he wasn't alright, because he didn't tend to say that, but he wasn't, and he couldn't just tell Lizzie he was fine and then still look like he wanted to go out murdering.

"Bet Sorrel's told you all about her boyfriend, hasn't she?" he asked rhetorically. Sorrel was telling everyone she could. He punched the pillow again. "Well, maybe not quite all," punch, "like his age," punch, "Like the fact he's ten," punch, "years," punch, "older than her," punch, punch, punch. He paused, trying to think how to phrase the next bit, which was getting more into feeling. He had so many things to say, so much hate that he could rant for hours. "I don't want that f***ing sleeze bag perving over my sister!" he burst out. \n\n

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Lizzie

October 19, 2006 11:59 PM

seems more like pillow fighting... by Lizzie

Lizzie was not unacustomed to the "teenage boy" mentality. Afterall, her brothers were teenagers once, and Merlin only knew how many times their numerous teenaged guyfriends had been around the Lavine manor. So it came as no surprise to Liz when Ash acted just like she remembered her brothers acting. Grunting, punching things- these were typical boy things, she reminded herself before proceeding.

"Ash, you're upset," she said, unsure how to continue with that line of thinking, "You're her brother, I get that. Protecting and worrying over her are what you do best. You're twins after all, but-"

Liz had to cut herself off there because she knew that Ash didn't want to hear her arguement from the little sister side of things. She had been babied all her life by her brothers as well as been ordered around by her Aunt Rose, and frankly Liz wasn't surprised that Sorrel had decided to date an older guy. It was a rebel thing, and Liz understood what it was like to feel like being a rebel. Yet the issue remained: how do you tell a brother who has every right in the world to be angry and protective that he might need to let his sister a little space?

"Ash, now look, I know you're angry and you've every right to be," Liz attempted to continue her reasoning, "Sorrel, I bet she's just going through a rebellion. You know, just doing something outlandish to get attention. It's not uncommon... I think she just needs a little space."

Recognizing that she couldn't possibly get any farther with that arguement, Lizzie just sighed, turning away from Ash. The sun still sat up in the now partly cloudy sky on the opposite side of the pitch, something that Liz fixed her gaze on as she turned away. Ash obviously had a lot of anger- maybe it might be better for her to just leave him to vent it all out. Yet she didn't want to leave in case he really did have something to get out- and besides, Lizzie never left a friend in dire need, and Ash seemed to be very much in need. \n\n

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